


Lyrics to Songs Unsung

by pascalleeos



Series: So Says Our Hearts [4]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Awkward Romance, Drama & Romance, Final Fantasy XIV: Heavensward, Final Fantasy XIV: Stormblood, Final Fantasy XIV: Stormblood Spoilers, First Kiss, Flashbacks, Jealousy, M/M, Male Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Memories, Miqo'te (Final Fantasy XIV), Possessive Behavior, Romance, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Ul'dah (Final Fantasy XIV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-26
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2019-06-16 12:55:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15437496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pascalleeos/pseuds/pascalleeos
Summary: While on a fishing venture in Yanxia, the Warrior of Light recalls memories of times spent with Alphinaud in order to combat a new, unfamiliar breed of homesickness.





	Lyrics to Songs Unsung

**Author's Note:**

> Just some little tidbits of romance between Alphinaud and the WoL, including the first time they finally kissed. Wanted to build on where they are at present in the FFXIV story and how they progressed in that direction.
> 
> Some of it takes place after 4.0, so there will be Stormblood spoilers.

The heat of midday was anything but forgiving, but despite the sweat that had formed along the inner ring of his hat, the Warrior of Light seemed moderately unfazed. At this point in his life, he’d all but experienced enough time in a variety of climates to know when to grin and bear it. Though initially, he’d combatted the cooler winds of Ishgard and Coerthas with some manner of disdain, the snow and ice had somewhat grown on him.

Ironic, for a Seeker of the Sun. But it happened that way, sometimes.

It was nice, however, to be in the warmth of the daylight, relaxing back against one of the sides of the small boat that he’d borrowed from a nearby dock. With a rod in hand and the fish looking to be a bit sleepy in the earlier afternoon, he’d almost nodded off himself. But the bard couldn’t really afford to not stay as alert as he could. With potential gil on the line and a request from Wawalago unable to go unanswered, he had left for Yanxia as quickly as he could in order to retrieve the catch and make his way back home. But it was already nearing day four without a sign of the particular fish that he was meant to haul back home. With no certainty of an end in the near future, he was beginning to let his thoughts wander.

At some point, he shut his eyes, letting the gentle currents of the river keep him afloat as he looked to soothe the growing ache somewhere inside of him which longed for the familiar sights and sounds of what he now knew as home. 

No, that home wasn’t a roomy manor in Ishgard or even his comfortable apartment along the waters of Limsa Lominsa, though there was something to be said about the views that both cities provided whenever he would return for a spell. 

Instead, he found himself basking in the memory of a voice. A touch. A face. Somehow, someway, as it always was when he was away for any real length of time, the shorter, slightly younger Elezen would always manage to invade his conscious mind.

Despite himself, the Warrior of Light couldn’t help but smile.

\------

The first time they’d admitted an affinity for each other had been during a small reprieve in Ishgard as they sat along the balcony of the upper floor of Fortemps Manor. Despite the misgivings of their initial arrival into the Holy See, perhaps it was a newly found shared affection that managed to keep them going. They were still moderately shy then, unable to really express themselves without some manner of awkwardness. The weight of their mission would weigh on both the Warrior of Light and Alphinaud’s minds more often than either liked to admit and with the sudden pressure of needing to be romantically _present_ , it was a struggle to offer each other reminders.

That is until a fatal night in the Vault forced them to set aside those hesitations. As the Warrior of Light fought through guilt and depression that accompanied the nights following Lord Haurchefant’s demise, Alphinaud struggled with the need to provide solace and comfort and his own lack of knowledge of how to do so. Even as the bard tried to isolate; tried to keep himself from being outwardly distraught, Alphinaud made attempts to seek him out or to catch him in a rare moment of acceptance where they could simply sit near each other, even if there was no conversation to be had. 

The arcanist made another such attempt one night after learning that the bard had rented a room at the Forgotten Knight. The act had stricken Alphinaud as odd, though perhaps his friend had simply wanted more privacy than the manor could offer. Even so, he felt a bit awkward as he knocked on the door to the room he’d been told about, only to spy the downtrodden face of the Miqo’te as the door opened ever so slightly.

“...May I come in?” Alphinaud asked tentatively, not wanting to interrupt what was clearly another period of grief, and yet, not wanting to leave without being able to provide some manner of relief. But to his surprise, the door opened wider; just enough to allow the Elezen to slip inside before it was gently closed again.

With the nearby window shut, the room was pleasantly warm, though awfully dreary. But perhaps if the bard were really so steeped in sorrow, it made a fitting place to be. Though he would not voice that thought. ‘Rude’ would be too polite a word to use if he did.

The Warrior of Light, dressed in nothing more than a casual set of clothing, drifted back over to where the bed was and sat on the edge, offering Alphinaud a weary, yet genuine smile. He was trying, clearly. The fact that he was, however, was only making Alphinaud even more sympathetic. Despite all they’d been through, and even when his own regrets following the betrayal of the Braves had surfaced, the Miqo’te had been solid as ever. An unshakeable foundation for which Alphinaud was forever grateful. 

But now?

Now he just looked as though he were crumbling.

“...This place could use some better interior decorating, I think,” Alphinaud said lightly, trying to find a way to segue into a legitimate conversation and failing. The bard only took a moderate glance around before offering a little shrug and a reply.

“Maybe. It’ll do for tonight, I think. I’m just hoping I can get some decent sleep, really.”

The arcanist found some courage to step over to where the bard sat, eventually taking a seat on the bed next to him. About to offer yet another condolence regarding what everyone knew had affected him so deeply when he spied a drink which sat on a nearby nightstand, brow furrowing in immediate concern. 

“Are you-” he began, glancing over to catch the swift shake of the other’s head as the bard tried to quickly put any of those specific fears to rest.

“Just water,” he said. The Warrior of Light was not much of a drinker. And he hadn’t really wanted to start now. Alphinaud breathed a little easier after that, though undoubtedly he’d given himself away as some kind of fussing caretaker. Which wasn’t exactly how he wanted to be seen, but… 

His concern was very hard to keep to himself.

“...I know it’s… been difficult,” the Elezen said after a few moments of trying to find the right words. “Dealing with the aftermath of… everything.” And still with the knowledge that there was yet more on the horizon. Gods… it probably felt like a crushingly unbearable weight. “But I- I want to be… here. For you.”

Though the Miqo’te’s eyes had been fixated on the floor before then, he eventually brought them upwards and to Alphinaud. Their gazes met and stuck, neither able to glance away. Until the Warrior of Light brought a hand out to take Alphinaud’s, wrapping slightly larger fingers around the arcanist’s slender ones in a gentle hold as he murmured out a gentle reply. 

“You’re here, aren’t you?” 

Though the redness in Alphinaud’s face told enough stories about his inexperience and the fact that his nerves had lit up at the touch certainly betrayed how attempts at appearing calm and collected, he still managed a small smile in return.

“I suppose I am. I just… didn’t want you to be alone. Not now. I- I read in a book that grief can be hard to deal with when you’re alone. And that there have been enough observances in -” Alphinaud paused before shaking his head. Only more embarrassed. “Sorry. You probably would rather not hear that.”

The bard, however, couldn’t help but offer the smallest of laughs. It was a bit tired and not at all as deep as it might have been had he not been suffering from such emotional exhaustion, but it was some sign of life all the same. 

“Maybe you can tell me about it some other time,” he said before leaning over and resting his forehead gently against Alphinaud’s temple. The act itself had the arcanist tensing, though he didn’t move. Nor did he necessarily… dislike the affection. It was simply… new. He eventually forced himself to relax after a brief interlude of internal panic. This was… okay. It was fine. In fact, it was better than fine. It was a sign that the Warrior of Light still wanted to be seen; to be heard. Didn’t want to isolate himself to the point where none of the Scions saw him outside of missions. 

As it turned out, it was every relief at once.

The tension slowly seeped out of Alphinaud’s shoulders and he allowed the bard to maintain the contact. Until he began to realize that the Miqo’te had eventually… dozed off.

Alphinaud didn’t mind, shifting himself so that he could use both arms to gently lower the other down and onto the bed the rest of the way before standing and moving to retrieve one of the nearby blankets. As though he were acting on impulse, he lay the blanket gently over the Warrior of Light’s sleeping form, making sure that he seemed comfortable in his doze before moving to sit on the floor nearby, leaning against the bed where the other rested.

He meant to keep himself awake; a way to keep an eye on the bard as he slept, but considering all that they’d been through as of late, it was hard not to succumb to his own tiredness in the quiet safety of the inn room. 

They would reconvene the next morning, stepping out together to face the rest of their looming responsibilities to the Holy See.

\------

As the months passed, the Warrior of Light and Alphinaud became less hesitant about affection, though they were no less adamant about keeping it private. Though they sometimes were caught in a passing lingering gaze or a prolonged touch, they mostly kept their public relationship as professional as they could manage. Even if, at times, it became exceedingly difficult.

Like the time when a wealthy merchant from Ul’dah tried desperately to betroth the Warrior of Light to one of his many daughters. With promises of riches, popularity, and reputation beyond his wildest dream, the man had all but arranged a ceremony as the bard struggled to find ways to refuse without upsetting him. At it turned out, the merchant had enough connections to Ul’dah’s syndicate to cause some ruffled feathers and considering the Scions’ shaky past - made up for or otherwise - it was difficult to want to get on anyone’s bad side. 

Especially a rich anyone.

Through all of the Warrior of Light’s hemming and hawing over ways to politely turn the man - and each of his seven daughters - down, it was Alphinaud who had put himself directly into the Miqo’te’s business, seething with a possessiveness that he’d not yet come to know until that moment. Though he was clearly aware of how popular the bard’s status made him, said popularity had not quite entailed admirers thus far. The idea that the act of fawning over the bard could become relatively commonplace made the arcanist petty and judgmental, much to his own chagrin.

“Who does he think he is?” Alphinaud muttered to the bard one evening as the merchant’s plea for a betrothal yet again went unanswered. He’d promised to return a few hours later with daughters in tow. The Warrior of Light would have his pick of the litter, he’d said. A premise that even made the Miqo’te wrinkle his nose, certain that the women in question couldn’t have all agreed to be touted back and forth like differently dyed garments for sale.

But the bard could only sigh in response to Alphinaud’s grumbles, unable to provide much insight into the merchant’s thought processes besides what he could discern from his point of view.

“Perhaps he looks to stand on my reputation to make his position in Ul’dah stronger. The marriage itself would only be a catalyst for his own accomplishments, I assume.” 

Alphinaud glanced over at the Warrior of Light, eyebrows raised as he folded arms across his chest.

“And you _are_ going to ultimately refuse him, are you not? You’ve been taking your precious time in doing so.”

The Miqo’te brought both hands up in defense, a little bit nervous at the sound of the other’s tone.

“I - It’s difficult for me to outright jeopardize what could possibly prevent another sabotage, don’t you think?” 

Perhaps that was the wrong thing to say as Alphinaud had let out an agitated huff before saying nothing more on the subject, muttering something about having to find something for Alisaie before disappearing out into the street and back towards their temporary accommodations.   
The bard never claimed to be good at communication. 

The following few days were just as awkward with Alphinaud keeping his distance and the merchant ever so persistent. The bard had even made an attempt to maintain the merchant’s favor without outright giving consent by going on several outings with each of the daughters. From a casual drink at the Quicksand to a short stroll along the Exchange, spending more time away from the Scions seemed to only make matters worse on both ends.

Eventually, the merchant wanted an answer and the Warrior of Light had accidentally managed to charm at least two of the daughters to the point where they’d made advances to seal the deal. In a panic, the bard had been unable to determine the right course of action until eventually, having not seen Alphinaud properly in days, the responsibility to protect their reputation in Ul’dah became a bit too much for the Miqo’te to handle.

When the merchant presented himself in the middle of the Promenade following a meeting with the sultana with both Scions and Syndicate members present, it had caught everyone off guard. Despite his wealth, he was still not exceptionally well known. So now was his moment, it seemed, to make it so. With daughters in tow, he announced that the Warrior of Light would then choose his soon-to-be bride, much to the surprise to everyone nearby, Alphinaud included. Had the bard, at some point during their tentative separation, agreed to the man’s wild plot?

But the Warrior of Light could take no more of this game, looking about as shocked as the rest of the Scions before his expression quickly turned to that of obvious disdain. 

Enough was enough.

“I never claimed to agree to this charade,” the bard said aloud, moving to confront the merchant finally. At the very least, everyone in attendance would be able to see that this was an earnest refusal. 

He hoped.

“I’m sorry, but lovely as your daughters are, my duty binds me to Eorzea. And-” The bard paused, briefly glancing over at Alphinaud who stood some fulms away, looking moderately displeased by the entire situation. “And to the Scions,” he continued, hoping that the underlying implication would not be missed. But even if it had…

Turning back to the merchant, the Warrior of Light offered him a courteous bow.

“You have my apologies. But I cannot, in good conscious, burden any of your family with that of my responsibilities. Though with the amount of charm and grace that your daughters possess, I’m certain that they will find someone who appreciates them for those qualities.” 

Some of the women seemed flattered by the compliment while a few others were surprised that anyone had the gall to stand up to their insistent father. Despite either reaction, however, and their father’s red face - out of anger or embarrassment, the bard didn’t know, and didn’t care to find out - the Warrior of Light turned away from the scene, taking a few steps towards Alphinaud in an attempt to lead him away from the ruckus and elsewhere. 

“If you’ll excuse me, Ser Alphinaud and I have some Scion business to attend to. We will see you all at a later time.”

It took a colossal amount of fortitude and overcoming of the initial fear that began to bubble up at the back of his throat in order to reach out and take the Elezen’s arm to guide him away from the promenade and back towards the city streets, eventually releasing him in order to let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

“I’m sorry I didn’t do that sooner,” the bard eventually said when they were in the relative privacy of a small alleyway. “That was… ridiculous.”

“A bit,” Alphinaud replied, still reeling some from the surprise of the Miqo’te’s outburst, albeit a relatively _tame_ one. “I was half expecting you to actually propose to one of them, if I am honest.”

The bard scoffed, as though offended by the mere idea. But he could understand the thought process. He’d certainly taken his time outright refusing the merchant’s offer.

“I know that it may have seemed otherwise, but I am… adamant about making sure that you know that my duty, as I so articulated, still remains with Eorzea. But also… Also with you. I may not be the best at navigating awkward social circumstances, but I didn’t mean to make you feel as though I didn’t value what we have. What we’ve been… doing. Together.” 

Alphinaud’s expression softened some. He knew that he’d been a bit… childish in the last few days. But jealousy had a way of forcing him to cop an attitude. One that he was aware made him look petty. So, apologetically, he breathed out a sigh of his own. But before he could say anything, the bard was reaching out to take his hands, drawing Alphinaud closer to himself - after a precursory glance at their surroundings to make sure that they were truly alone - and speaking in a bit of a nervous rush of words that caught the both of them decidedly off guard.

“I want you to be my partner!” 

It was… sudden. And unexpected. And they both stared at each other for some time in a bit of a stunned silence before the Warrior of Light was all but forced to expand upon the words due to the weight of the awkwardness that had followed them.

“I mean… We’ve… been invested for quite some time now… haven’t we? And it… only makes sense to further solidify it. Especially if it will… reassure you that I have no vested interest in anyone else. Man or woman. Just- Just you. And that doesn’t mean we have to make it… public or anything but… The simple title, perhaps. When it’s just us. You know. As… partners. I want that.” 

The bard cleared his throat, his face beet red as he fell into silence, though he did not dare to release Alphinaud’s hands, clinging to them as though they were lifelines against the threat of rejection. But the arcanist had other ideas, simply staring down at their joined hands before- 

He laughed.

Alphinaud was not the type to laugh very often, and not in such serious moments. He was critical and introspective. Knowing this, the Elezen’s clear amusement caught the bard off guard. Was it… something he said? Was the idea laughable? A million and one fears began to arise somewhere in the back of his mind but they were soon quieted by the tightening of Alphinaud’s fingers around his own. Though it was obvious that neither of them was entirely prepared for the topic of conversation, given the fact that now both of their faces were flushed. Though admittedly, the bard would claim that Alphinaud’s color was much more appealing…

“Are you expecting me to say no?” the Elezen asked with a slight tilt of his head.

“...I’m not sure, honestly,” the bard replied, a little bit exasperated. “I’ve never done this before. You’ll have to give me a bit of a break when it comes to expectations.” 

“I offer no such break. But… if you’re truly looking for a response… I will offer a tentative yes.” Alphinaud seemed so confident. But what was the catch, the bard wondered. Why exactly was this much more challenging for the Warrior of Light than it was for his fellow Scion? “On the condition that you understand that our mission must come before all else.”

Ah. That’s why. Ever the diplomat, he was. And the Miqo’te should have expected nothing less. But he’d gone into their exploration of affection for each other knowing full well that Eorzea was the priority. Along with his promise to Alisaie to ensure that he knew how his choices would affect Alphinaud in the end, the Warrior of Light made no mistake in acknowledging just how things could go.

And yet- He still wanted this.

“...Of course.”

Alphinaud gave him a gentle squint before offering a much more relaxed smile. As long as they were at an understanding then… 

“Then it shall be so.” 

Following their encounter in the alley, it was somewhat often that one or both of them would be caught slipping up from time to time, referring to one another as a ‘partner’ rather than a friend. Though the ones closest to them seemed to catch on to the implication, most of the others they came across seemed none the wiser, making it relatively easy to maintain a professional tone. 

For now, it worked.

\------

From that point on, it never seemed like enough. Though they spent nights together when there was time for rest and leisure, said nights were mostly occupied by sharing books, talking, and dozing off when the night became quiet enough to do so. Though there was plenty of affection shared between them, neither the Warrior of Light nor Alphinaud were particularly physical with one another beyond the sharing of space from time to time. Perhaps that was a step that they didn’t want to venture into until they were certain or… until they had more time, maybe.

But the periods in between - when the Warrior of Light had to venture off to face a primal or investigate yet another event in the deserts of Gyr Abania - only served to make those absences more impactful. Alphinaud may not have been the most capable in combat, but often did he try to assert that he should come along in the bard’s travels. But with the threat of becoming a thrall ever present, the Warrior of Light would almost always refuse. Alphinaud was needed for his strategies and diplomacy. He would fare better in the camp at Rhalgr’s Reach, even if it would keep them separated for a time.

Despite these spans of time, there would always be something to keep them occupied. Through their journeys through Dravania, the period in Doma and then in their plot to liberate Ala Mhigo, there was always something. Imperials. Primals. Beastmen or dragons. So little time was there to spend lingering on anything else that when there was finally a reprieve, those thoughts came flooding to the forefront all at once. 

When the Imperials were driven back in Ala Mhigo and the Warrior of Light was forced to face Zenos alone, there were a few moments throughout the encounter where he briefly considered that he might not return to that rooftop garden. That he might never have seen any of the Scions - not Lyse nor Thancred, Urianger, Tataru, or Alisaie… or even Alphinaud - ever again. That this was the moment in time where the Warrior of Light would finally meet an end worthy of song. 

And yet it was not to be. 

When the battle was over and the celebrations began, the Miqo’te had been able to breathe easy, though in spite of it all, he did not come out of it unscathed. When he’d been able to finally escape the questions and the pats on the back, he had retreated into the camp for some relative privacy. For time to let himself decompress and to treat some of the wounds that had manifested underneath his clothing, shedding a few layers to do so. 

Making the assumption that the others would be too busy with spending time with others to enjoy the Imperial defeat, he almost jumped when he turned to grab a nearby cloth to start wiping at some lingering blood that remained caked over one of those wounds and was instead greeted by Alphinaud as he entered the tent. Obviously just as caught off guard as the bard was. The Elezen could not recall a time when he’d seen the other without a shirt, but beyond the embarrassment that came along with catching the Warrior of Light in such a state, there was also a sudden flash of concern on his features as he noticed the battered and bruised skin that the Miqo’te was tending to.

“I didn’t mean to surprise you,” Alphinaud said after a moment when he could finally find the words. “But you disappeared and I wanted to make sure you were… alright.” Taking a few steps into the tent, he moved to retrieve the cloth that the bard had been reaching for, handing it over to him with a small smile. “Is it okay that I’m here?”

The Warrior of Light didn’t seem all the bothered by the arcanist’s presence, watching him for a time before taking the offered cloth and pressing it gently against one of the wounds along his shoulder. 

“I thought you might stay out there to hear the congratulations,” the bard said with a smile in return. “But I can’t exactly say I’m not glad that you stepped away. In fact… I could use a bit of help if you don’t mind. There are a few of these that I can’t quite reach myself.”

Alphinaud was not the best choice to administer first aid, but he could do his best, eventually coming over to take a nearby water basin and set it down next to them. Made it easier to dip the rags into the water and soothe them gently over those wounds to clean them. Nothing seemed serious. He would thank the Twelve for that under his breath as he tended to the bruises and scrapes, silent for now until the words began to bubble up from somewhere internally. Like they had been waiting to emerge for days now.

“I- I wasn’t certain… if you were going to come back this time,” he began, his hands slowing to a stop as he rested them against the bard’s back. Alphinaud was almost… ashamed to say it. That he’d doubted. But he found it difficult to lie. Especially about this. With the monumental task of defeating Zenos, well… 

The Warrior of Light was not immortal.

“I know it’s a bit ridiculous for me to say. You’ve never not come back before. It just… seemed like a much more real possibility this time…”

Alphinaud’s words drifted off before he fell silent again, hands beginning to move once more. Though they were stilled as the bard turned to face him, catching his gaze with one that was soft and sympathetic. The Warrior of Light knew as well as anyone the type of fear that was prevalent whenever they were not only separated but having to face threats that were nearly impossible to quantify. 

But that fear needed to be overcome. Time and time again. And this was one of those times.

So, reaching up with a gentle hand, the Miqo’te pressed a palm gingerly against the side of Alphinaud’s face, running a thumb over his cheek with care. Keeping that eye contact and refusing to break it.

“As long as I know you’re waiting for me, I will always come back,” he said in a murmur, hoping that his words were as reassuring as they felt to himself. Though he didn’t know the truth of it - no one did - he would make good on his promise to Alisaie. To the best of his ability.

Alphinaud was a bit taken aback by the Warrior of Light’s brazen proclamation and the realization that this was likely the most intimate they’d been in… ever. The flush in his cheeks spoke to that fact, though he was thankful that the lack of light in the tent didn’t give him away too easily. To the bard, however, it didn’t seem to matter. As it turned out, life was too short to let hesitation prevent him from doing what he should have been doing all along.

The arcanist took in a breath and leaned into that touch, shutting his eyes briefly before opening them again, more resolute about his words. “Then… Then I will always wait for you.” 

With a newfound expectation internally set for himself, the Warrior of Light decided to take a risk. They’d never talked about… exactly where their relationship would eventually lead. But he was tired of waiting. Tired of keeping his feelings to himself for fear of overstepping his boundaries. And knowing what he knew about Alphinaud’s own hesitations, it would have to be the bard who moved them forward.

After only a second of thinking, he drew closer, leaning down some to make up for their moderate height difference before pressing his lips to Alphinaud’s. It was only slightly awkward for the half-second it took for the arcanist to process it fully before his shoulders slumped and he could only return it somewhat desperately. It was as if he hadn’t fully realized how badly he’d needed such a physical display of affection before now. And perhaps he hadn’t. This was new and strange and… incredible. Enough so that he was quickly bringing his arms up to wrap them gently around the Miqo’te’s neck to bring them ever closer. 

As the night began to settle in outside of the tent, the gentle glow of a nearby candle kept the two of them warm and lit with soft, orange hues. It would probably be much easier to take this a step further, but the bard was wont to take his time with things of this nature. And considering that they still had much to do… Perhaps that was a topic best left for another time. Instead, for now, he focused on the feeling of Alphinaud’s lips against his own; how his more slender form felt in his embrace and how deeply he’d been afraid that he’d never get the opportunity to do something like this. 

The Warrior of Light would not be so foolish as to forget again. Even if it meant ducking around like young lovebirds for any chance at privacy. He would remember how this moment felt. How Alphinaud seemed to melt in his arms and refuse to part. It was only when they both needed to take in air that the kiss eventually broke, bringing the bard forward to set his forehead against Alphinaud’s. Keeping him close. 

_“I will always come back,”_ he whispered. A repeated reminder. The Elezen could only nod fervently in understanding. He knew now. He would always know.

For the remainder of the night, while others cheered and drank around roaring fires, the Scions did their best to dissuade well-wishers from interrupting the Warrior of Light’s well-deserved rest. Alphinaud’s absence was telling, but everyone knew that the Scions’ de facto leader had earned just as much of a reprieve. 

Together, they would wait out the rest of the night, entangled with each other as they shared tender words and made up for lost time. Proper sleep wouldn’t come until the quiet hours of the morning, but they would go undisturbed, regardless. 

Both Alphinaud and the Warrior of Light would bask in the peace that their efforts had won for them. 

For all of Ala Mhigo.

\------

When the sun began to leave a red mark along the back of his neck, the Miqo’te finally stirred. The boat shifted some with his sudden start, the rod in his hands nearly slipping free and over the edge. Something had snagged onto his line. A few seconds later and he might have missed it entirely.

In a sudden rush to make sure the fish did not go unclaimed, he quickly got to his feet, balance a bit wobbly from his earlier nap as he reeled the line and gave the rod a few tugs. Whatever it was that he’d managed to catch was beginning to fight him. And fight him hard.

The boat pitched and swayed with the efforts, but with enough concentration - and more than enough colorful swear words that eked from his lips - the large longhair catfish was finally pulled from the waters and flopped unceremoniously into the small rowboat that was now almost much too small for the fish itself.

But the bard didn’t seem to care. With a triumphant cheer, he pulled the line from the fish’s mouth and allowed it to finally come to a stop, succumbing to the open air and laying still. 

At last. This was the fish that Wawalago had been wanting. And caught much earlier than he’d anticipated! He could go back now. Back to the Rising Stones. Alphinaud would be waiting for him there.

With a newfound vigor and catch in tow, the Warrior of Light set his oar into the water and began to paddle back to the shore. 

He supposed it was true, what they said:

Absence made the heart grow fonder.


End file.
